The Third Conner’s Son

Conner toted the injured boy back to the source of the spring. He laid him carefully be way of apology. COnner’s Son couldn’t tell.

The first part of the cave required one to lay down and scuffle through the mud. It would not be forgiving about the bad ankle.

“Right one, yes?” Conner’s Son grunted his assent.

“I’ll go first. A bit of a ways in I can turn around and come back to help pull, but you’ll need to lie on your left side with he bad foot on top, crawling till I can get back to you to help.”

Conner’s Son struggled through the remaining nausea to say, “Cover…up.”

“Too late for that. We can only hope [the beast by name] won’t be able to get in. Don’t waste time come in right after me.”

Conner worried they’d wasted time trying to lead the beast astray of their hole.

Conner dropped into the spring and began to crawl. The narrow space made him a little frantic. He struggled his way through to each opening he could feel. Sometimes pushing, sometimes kicking, sometimes wriggling with his whole body. His son’s smaller stature would make it easier, but not by much. There was no way to know if Conner’s Son followed or not. All Conner could do was to get tot he turn around and edge back hands first.